The Writing On The Wall
by The Bud
Summary: You all know I mean it when I put up a warning. Please don't let me damage your mind! This was started and posted first years ago. I just want to finish it somehow.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own this, please don't sue me. La La La. Marvel and Tyco  
  
do, La La La.  
  
  
  
The Writings On The Wall.  
  
My memory flips back to the long crimson streak that was my wife's  
  
life strewn across our freshly painted white walls. She must have stuggled,  
  
she must have tried to run, why she didn't use her powers to protect  
  
herself, I may never know. Was whomever came and violated our sanctuary  
  
to rob us of our peace prepared? Someone beat her for little more than game   
  
sport. Mutant hunting season is open, I presume.  
  
  
I've tried to repaint that room, I just can't bring myself to do it.  
  
I wonder how it was I wasn't there to protect her as he spilt pools of seamen  
  
into her unwilling body in my bed, our bed. How he let her run so he could hunt  
  
her down, and do it again before attempting to kill her. He, he whom I'll never know his  
  
name felt good about leaving her naked body for me to find two days  
  
later when I came home from Genosha. The window open where summer air stung through and  
  
and bugs, animals, anything could eat. Her legs broken, her arms tied, how that had  
  
to hurt.  
  
Beast feels horrible, He and she were the only ones here, the rest of us had  
  
to go, to save lives. He spent all his time in his lab, would have never realized  
  
she never came around. How she must have screamed as she was beaten, but you can't  
  
hear a thing from three basements under, he knows we forgave him. But can I forgive  
  
"him"? The man that so very nearly took my wife from me?  
  
  
We found his skin under her nails, but what good is that when we don't have a thing  
  
to compare it to? Why her? What did she ever do to this man? I come to think  
  
about how many times we have saved lives, only to be treated as animals  
  
by the people we risk everything for. We fear this kind of thing  
  
happining when we are out on the field, but in our own homes? When we  
  
are just simple men and women doing the same things that all men and women do?  
  
  
She was painting a room. Why did this merit what that horrid man did to my wife?  
  
He beat her until he thought she had died. The police came when we called, but a mutant   
  
woman being brutally assaulted doesn't even come close to the list of  
  
concerns of the New York police, not unless it was in a doughnut shop.  
  
  
I don't even know is I'll ever even see another tomorrow with her. Everyday I still  
  
have her is a blessing, Even if she can't see or hear me. Hank says there is a big  
  
chance that if my baby lives, she will always be blind, Everything else can be fixed.   
  
She'll look just like she did before, if she lives. I want to just hold her  
  
close one last time, caress her face, her hair, hear her laugh. Everybody  
  
is already preparing me for her death, while they hope she lives. Hope, Hope  
  
and a miriacle is all we have.  
  
Why this man felt he had the right to shatter a life for whatever  
  
reason he wanted my wife, is beyond all fathonable reason. I  
  
hope we find the bastard. Make him see what he did. I want to make him  
  
clean every square inch of what he did up with his tongue. The seamen,  
  
the blood and the torn bits of flesh that moulded to the carpet as we pried  
  
her body off the floor. I want him to taste his own filth for what he did.  
  
I cannot even sleep in that bed after what he did. I had to get a new one.  
  
  
One I hope my wife can share wth me one day. In peace and comfort, make our  
  
children there, read stories to our grand children here. I know  
  
that might not happen, and if she lives, the writing left on the wall  
  
to this terrible deed has to fade. How much might she remember? How  
  
terrified she must have been, how she must have tried to call out to me.  
  
  
Her broken body, I cannot ever forget, and how she didn't bleed to death is beyond me.  
  
Sometimes, it's just too much to comprehend how close she is to slipping  
  
away from me forever. Beast is working nonstop, as well as Cecila to help her.  
  
They work very well together, they should be together. Maybe this happened for   
  
that reason, but that still doesn't stop me from wanting to get my  
  
hands on the monster that did this.  
  
They gave me a lock of her hair to keep, for memory. With all the pictures  
  
in my mind, She already fills my memory. Even the smallest scent of her   
  
fills my mind with her. And I still hold her in my dreams, just as stiches and tubes  
  
hold her together now. All I wish is she comes back to me, because  
  
if she does, I'm never letting go again.  
  
  



	2. She Lay There So Frail

Disclaimer: If I owned this, I wouldn't have credit debt. But I do owe buttloads,  
  
so.. uhm, yea.  
  
  
Authur's note: I wrote "The Writing On The Wall" so that anyone with  
  
an idea about that story could use it as a template. It's not a "Who was  
  
it?" kinda thing, it was a "Who could it be?". I hope to read much from  
  
anybody who'd like to make this part of their own.  
  
Have Fun!  
  
Yer ol' pal, The Bud.  
  
Ps.. I'm writing this for you, you know whom you are, because you asked,  
  
not because of flattery.. so you esspeccially, have fun.. or soap on a rope.  
  
  
Where She Lay So Frail.  
  
  
Her broken wrists, so tightly bound now, not in rope, but in plaster and   
  
wood. Her delicate face once framed by that beautiful hair, now lays under layers  
  
of gauze and stiches as the ripped ragged wounds now heal into long, pink lines.  
  
  
The black bruses have began ti fade to grey-green shades of olive, discolouring her skin.  
  
I would do anything to kiss them better, but she is not a child and I  
  
am not so stupid as to belive that a simple kiss could make her normal  
  
again.  
  
Her legs that used to grip my back so wonderfully tight, now lay cracked,  
  
They lay useless, they just lay. There is so much she needs now, it makes me wonder  
  
if she hates me for not being there when she needed me the most. She had   
  
such beautiful legs. The kind you could run your hands over for hours,  
  
well muscled, yet, so very feminin. Now, just mangled flesh, useless.  
  
  
Beast says they will be fine again in time, she will live. I look at her and  
  
wonder, does she want to live? Her sight hasn't retuned, I know she fears being a burdon.  
  
She can be so stubborn! I swear! She can't walk, See, or even use her mutant  
  
abilities, but she tries, every moment she's not in an induced sleep,  
  
she's trying. Beast has had to sedate her many times, because the monitors  
  
say every movement is nothing but mind numbing pain for her.  
  
  
I watch her breasts heave as she sleeps through another surgery. I remember  
  
the first time my lips ever graced them as Beast and Cecilia crack open  
  
that sturnim to repair some new problems from the last surgery. I asked to  
  
see this against their advice. I wanted to forever remember how angry  
  
I am at whomever did this. No matter how many times I have heard bones break, I  
  
find myself unprepared for the crack that fills the room from my own wife.  
  
  
I throw up. No because of what I just saw, but because her attacker  
  
must have loved that sound to do it to her so many times. I hear a sound   
  
too much like a bowl of gelatin being swushed between hands to be anything less  
  
than them moving around organs to get to the trouble spots.   
  
  
What did he hit her with?! Did that man, if you can call him that just  
  
completely beat her insides to sludge? Beast assured me she would be fine, may even  
  
go on to give me children, but that sound, enough to make the toughest man cringe,   
  
makes me wonder if he's not doing his Hank act to spare me.  
  
  
The Professor and I have talked about all she might physically need, and she is  
  
welcome to stay as long as she wants, for all she has done for the X-Men,  
  
But not because, just because of that, we are her family, her children, her sisters  
  
and brothers, and I, her lover. I dare to look through thst glass again and watch as the  
  
bags of saline drain into her arm with the five other bags of mystery  
  
fluid dissapearing as well.   
  
I have to get the animal that did this, before he does this to somebody  
  
who doesn't have access to Shi ar technology, someone who will die.  
  
  
Professor surmises that that man targeted my wife because of how she looked,  
  
Not too many people look like her.  
  
And because he was prepared to handle a mutant, He had been studing her a long time.  
  
Months, years to get her. Waited for us to leave, he lurked, he hunted and he placed all  
  
his hate for everything in the worl on one person, one person who was  
  
different and releved himself. This is what scared me, He'll do it again,  
  
because he felt good and powerful to beat a mutant. He'll just keep doing this for  
  
the rush, and when that rush fades, he'll do worse. Sometimes they visit the scenes of  
  
past crimes to get that same feeling. Mansion security has been dramatically beefed up.  
  
He asked me if anything had been found missing.   
  
Nothing but the wife I knew was missing. How can I get her back  
  
if none of us can find out anything she knows about this? Is she ashamed  
  
that her body had been defiled? Does she think I can't love her anymore?  
  
After all I've gone through, the battles, the wounds, the fustration, just  
  
to help insure I had her to warm every night, how can she think I can't love her?  
  
  
Another sickining snap resonates through the walls and brings me out of my rant.  
  
So faint, and yet almost deafning. Then just the murmurings of Beast and Ceceila  
  
only being cut by the beeping of machines. I remember that first  
  
night after we found her. All the running and rushing around there was.  
  
She was hooked up to that very machine and the beepings went slower and slower  
  
untill it wouldn't cease being just one long ringing noise. I remember how they had to  
  
hold me back fron running to her, everybody struggled with me,  
  
when they, themselves had to press hard to keep from doing the same.  
  
  
Beast performing mouth to mouth and nearly choking himself on the fluid  
  
running from deep within her body. He got her breathing again, but I'd  
  
never think I'd ever see him just start crying as hard as he did. Just  
  
bawling about how sorry he was, that he wasn't there to stop this, that he  
  
didn't know. I calmed him down as he regained composure enough to help Ceceila  
  
and a few of the others who voulenteered. We X-Men, we stick together. I've knom  
  
Hank for a long time, I know he's truthful, I couldn't be mad.  
  
  
Professor was mad, It was obvious, even though he didn't say it, I kinda knew  
  
what he was thinking. My wife and I moved out, even though it was right across  
  
the way of the mansion, to our own place, to raise our children. He felt  
  
it best to stay, for safety reasons, I didn't listen. After this, I should have.  
  
I should have hung on to every verb, noun and adjective he said.  
  
  
I thought my wife was tough, that she could kick the crap out of any man,  
  
Myself included, I just never thought she'd be beaten down this way. What ever  
  
she was struck with pack a wollup.   
  
  
Police said the attack started  
  
in the bathroom attached to the bedroom, glass everywhere and a strange powder.  
  
Beast and a few of his computers are looking into the compisition of it though.  
  
There was a bottle of ether and a rag found, as well as a torched spot near where  
  
we found my poor darling. It wasn't enough to beat, rape and leave her for dead,  
  
He'd intended upon burning the body too.  
  
  
I thought back to the family that had owned the house before us, The guy  
  
beat his wife all the time and his kids would sometimes spend time  
  
picking flowers on the mansion property. We'd turn off the defense for them.  
  
Anyways, he beat his wife to death one day and fled. The kids grandparents sold  
  
the house to have money to raise them. Was it him? The light goes off  
  
in my head as I put the situation together. We should have stopped him  
  
when we had the chance! The Professor picks up my thoughts and visibly  
  
has a hard time stopping his anger or his tears. The manhunt is on, and  
  
I have every intention of making that man pay. I almost think I'm gonna enjoy this. 


	3. Where Lovers Dream

Disclaimer: If you don't know by now I don't own X-Men, may the school system  
  
have mercy on your education.  
  
  
The effects of "The Writing on The Wall" on the woman.  
  
  
Where Lovers Dream.  
  
Every time I wake up out of the stupor that I'm kept in for my own good,  
  
My body is burst in pain. That is the only way I can be sure I'm awake,  
  
still alive. No light reaches my eyes, only sound to my ears and pain,   
  
nearly unbearible pain.  
  
Most of the sound I hear tells me death will soon claim my fallen body.  
  
Pity and sorrow from those known to be closest friends. It hurts so  
  
to breath, I heard Hank say something earlier about having to open my   
  
chest, nothing like having every single rib broken.  
  
  
I knew my wrists were broken, the way that rope was tied, and the snapping  
  
and pure hurt, there is no way they couldn't be. The way that man's work  
  
boots slammed into my legs, and the bat he used to try to finish the job,  
  
they've just got to be about useless. I don't know how I lived long enough for  
  
my husband to find me.  
  
How bad he feels! His new wife violated, filled by another man's seed  
  
on our bed. I couldn't stop the man! I hadn't even the time to think  
  
before he started on me, he had something, a powder that I couldn't  
  
even use my powers to save a fly, and a bottle of ether or something, I  
  
fought and fought him, but he was too strong! My husband wouldn't  
  
have been able to protect me, he probably would have died.  
  
  
I couldn't allow that to happen! That man claimed that he would  
  
kill my lover, my body is sacrifice for his life, however, that man  
  
must know he will be caught soon. My husband and friends, the X-Men,  
  
do not allow these things to happen to our own.  
  
All my time as an X-Man, and I let myself get taken down by a man with  
  
a bat. Men with tanks couldn't take me down, Magneto couldn't take me down,  
  
but a man with a bat, why not?  
  
Now I'm little more than a vegitable, spewing blood and spending all my time on an operating table.  
  
All the antibiotics Hank and Ceceila have pumped into my body to fight  
  
the intial infections from those animal bites have killed everything, I should  
  
be lucky to ever be able to fight illnesses ever again. Even the Shi Ar technology is having   
  
a hard time keeping me alive. I want them to let me die, pull the plug.   
  
The only reasons for them not to, is because Beast feels it to be murder, "thou shall not murder."  
  
And the fact my husband and I love each other too much to die.  
  
  
I wish somebody had told that to the monster that did this to me. When I  
  
get myself back, I'll help take him down and let his foulness fill him,  
  
consume him, destroy him. But more importantly, I just want to know why  
  
as I remember "Thou shalt not judge". 


	4. Dopamines and Chemical Imbalances

Disclaimer: If you don't know that I don't own X-Men by now, I don't, So you know.  
  
  
Dopemines and Chemical Imbalances.  
  
"Sometimes I don't know why I did it. I had the bat, that stuff I lifted  
  
from a friend of mine's lab, and the hard on to do it. John, my friend  
  
is a real genious, created this powder that makes it impossible for mutants  
  
to use that freak show stuff they do. John's sister was a mutant, was untill  
  
I got through with her. Anyways, this muti bitch and her husband moved inta my old  
  
house. I shoulda mentioned, John was also my brother in law, and when I  
  
found out my wife was one of those filth pots from across Greymalkin lane,  
  
I beat her outta her misery. I beat her before, told the kids she was "accident  
  
prone." She really deserved it this time. Anyways, back to the muti bitch, I'd seen her go in and out of that  
  
mansion, mighta even been one of the ones who came to my house that time,  
  
I dunno, they all look the same and their only good for two things and both  
  
include my fists. I sure used them on that cunt. She looked real surprised to  
  
find she couldn't fight me back."  
  
"I just loved the way she screamed. I loved listening to her bones crunch  
  
after the way I had to kill my wife for being one of them. The best part was how she felt,   
  
just like a real woman, hearing her beg me to stop, watching her cry out in pain,  
  
the look on her face when she realised I came, priceless. I let her run for awhile,  
  
with those snapped wrists, but the trail of me that leaked out of her, lead  
  
me to where she hid pretty easily. Then I really let her have it! I fucked  
  
her again and made her suck me off before I beat her, no mauled that ass  
  
with my wooden bat until it splintered. I woulda shut the window,  
  
but I thought that with the body rotting, the wind'll take care of the stench  
  
and animals of the carcass and any evidence."  
  
"But no! I see in the police blotter, that little bitch lived.  
  
Good thing Salem cops care more about coffee that mutants, or I'd  
  
be running from the law again. Not like it matteres, I grew up with the  
  
"good ol' boys". I'm immune, even if I do come forth, she's a mutant.  
  
She should have been abile to fight off a lil' ol human like me.  
  
The judges'll all say it was consentual. I win." 


	5. My Demons Lain Before Me

Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own this, that right goes to some body else.  
  
  
My Demons Lain Before Me  
  
"I came to get you," the angry man stood poised to beat the man that so nearly  
  
ended this man's beloved wife. "Make no mistake about that, you die by my hand."  
  
"And what makes you think a filthy mutant like you is gonna get anything  
  
less than a lynching for killing me, a human, your better." Spat the other man.  
  
"If it makes you feel any better, she was good." He smiled. "Just  
  
like a real woman." He said as he licked his beer tainted lips.  
  
"If you are trying to make me any angrier at you," The first man said calmly.  
  
"It won't work. So what? My wife is a mutant, so was your's, is that why you killed Linda?"  
  
"You shut up about Linda, she deserved everything she got, just hope those kids  
  
of mine didn't get her disease." He said as he sipped at his seventh beer.  
  
"I doubt that she deserved what you did, animal. My wife didn't ither, she was painting  
  
a wall, she was washing the paint off when you decided for her that  
  
she should spend the rest of her life blind, boucing between surgery and  
  
therapy, that the last sight she saw was you pushing into her!" The first man yelled  
  
growing angry.  
  
"Whut? You think I'm afraid of you? Freak!" The second man drawled drunkenly.  
  
"I know the very mention of my name scares you enough to stop your beating heart." He  
  
said. "Or otherwise I wouldn't have had to hunt you down to a roach infested bar  
  
in Mexico." It was the first man's turn to smile. "Have your last drink, I  
  
don't kill a man to stupid to defend himself."  
  
"Why not?" The second man asked. "I fucked your stupid bitch." He vomited as  
  
he pulled an old .85 out of his jeans. "Who's gonna die now? I'll kill you,  
  
then I'll go back to finish the job I botched."  
  
"You cocky son of a bitch!" The first man exclaimed. "I gave you a chance  
  
to fight fair."  
  
"Who's scared now?" The second man mocked. " The big, bad ol' mutie is afraid of a  
  
little iron! Pow! Your dead!" He said as he fired.  
  
"Like I havn't been shot before." The second man growled nearly more  
  
savage than notible. "I'm afraid you're already dead. Look Down."  
  
"Huh? I don't see no.."   
  
Then nothing but a crack as a judo kick decapitated the man, as the septim of his  
  
nose was relocated to a warm spot in his brain.  
  
"I would have enjoyed tourturing you, like you did my wife, monster."  
  
The first man said as he tipped his hat. "I just didn't think you  
  
worth the effort. You're not even worth worm food."  
  
Then the man walked away. For once, being a mutant wasn't what was against him.  
  
The fact of the matter is, he's five miles from Texas, he's not Mexican, and  
  
niether goverment can prosicute him. That man now dead, with his nose snouted,  
  
and his eyes now being licked by flied on the bar floor, Nobody misses him.  
  
Nobody on this earth cares to miss him. And if nobody misses him, nobody  
  
asks where he is.  
  
A shallow victory at least for our first man, but at least no one else  
  
can get hurt by that sick man. The question at hand is, How can the first man  
  
sleep at night, being the only soul to lay witness to his deed? Is he any better  
  
that the second man, when he just killed his problem too?  
  
End. 


	6. Scars Return to Haunt You

Disclaimer:I don't own this, please don't sue me.  
  
  
Scars Return to Haunt You.  
  
"What on earth happened to you!!" Ceceila asked her distraut friend  
  
of his shoulder wound as she patched him up.  
  
"Just a little Iron. Iron's good for you." He said. "Where is she?"  
  
"She's sleeping. Now, who shot you?" Cecila demanded as she avoided the topic change.  
  
"Some punk in Mexico. Ouch!" He whined. "Why did you do that!?"  
  
"I know more than you think I do!" She hissed. "You went after him, didn't you! Answer  
  
me man!!"  
  
"Where is Beast, anyways!" He snapped and rose to leave.  
  
"I am not finished with you! Do you think you can give me those half  
  
answers you give everyone else, when you come to me to lick your wounds?  
  
I'm tired of it!" She contenued. "Do you hear me?!"  
  
"I could hear you even if I was deaf! sheesh!" HE said as he rubbed his ears.  
  
"What was going on in that head of yours? A man that looks like you in Mexico,  
  
never mind what you were doing, but then you traveled three days with a slug  
  
in your shoulder, and you don't even seem to care!" she screamed.  
  
"I could have removed it myself!" He retorted.  
  
"And what? Bled to death?" She argued.  
  
"You know I wouldn't let that happen. I have you get myself in trouble,  
  
you feel useless if I don't" He smiled smoothly.  
  
"That won't work this time, buster. I'm telling the Professor." Ceceila  
  
threatened.  
  
"What am I surposed to say?" He asked. "Don't! No Mommy! I'll be good!"?  
  
"Just stop! I'll keep quiet this time, but, She needs you, buddy. Don't  
  
go trying to be a martyer for her." She pleaded. "And if you ever call me  
  
mommy again, I'll treat you like the baby you are!"  
  
The tyraid is cut short by a knock at the clinic door.  
  
"Hey. Ceceila, can I see him just a sec?" The male interupter asked.  
  
"I don't know, May you?" She quipped.  
  
"You're worse than the fur ball." He said.  
  
"Take him. You talk him into some sence." She said.  
  
When the two men reached outside, the second man turned to face the first.  
  
"You can't go around killing people! You know that!" He yelled. "Do you know  
  
what it took to cover that incident in Mexico?!"  
  
"You should be one to talk!" The second man retorted. "And how did you know?!"  
  
"I have connections! As an X-Man, you should know that!" The second man said disgruntled.  
  
"You wouldn't understand."He said. "I would do anything to stop that man  
  
from ever hurting her again." The first man spat.  
  
"I know I would have done the same. You know we all love her." The second man said as he looked away.  
  
"Sometimes I think she would have done better if we didn't fight so hard to keep her."  
  
"I know. I'm being selfish, but I can't live without her." The first man said.  
  
"You've killed for her. Was it worth it? I see how you look at Ceceila." He said.  
  
"It was worth it. I just miss my wife too much." The first man cried.  
  
"She hangs on for you. There is just so much pain she's in." The second man stated.  
  
"I don't know how long she'll stay. Let her die."  
  
"Never! She's my life!" The first man panicked.  
  
"I understand, but if you feel the need to kill again, let me know,  
  
otherwise, you might not be so lucky." He warned.  
  
"You needn't worry. How is she?" The first man asked.  
  
"Thinking of you." Then he left.  
  
End.  
  
  



	7. My Obsession

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men and never had a valid excuse for using them.  
  
  
My Obsession.  
  
"Oh!" She exclaimed as she put the final touches of angel white paint on  
  
the once soiled brown walls. "He's going to love this when he gets back!"  
  
She thought to herself. By he, she means her husband, the man she loves, the man whom  
  
protects her, her prince. The two love birds moved into this house because  
  
it was cheap, and it was close enough to the school they worked in, and loved  
  
so that should anything arise, they could be there in minutes, and still maintain  
  
the privacy new couples need. It was more than a need between the two, outright  
  
undisguised desire, a fire that sparked between the two, like the whole world covered in  
  
fireworks. Just BOOM! Like that.  
  
Elsewhere, About fiveteen minutes from her happy nest, the former owner of  
  
the house, the one's whoms dispicable deed made the house so cheap, so  
  
two mutants, his most hated people could move in, was visiting. He was visiting  
  
his dead wife's brother, another whom shares his hatred. Even to the point that he agreed  
  
his sister, Linda, deserved to die a brutal death for being a mutant.  
  
"So, John, what's this new stuff Ya got that just couldn't wait?" The first man asked.  
  
"After the.. tragidy.. my sister had, I felt it unfair that mutants can  
  
take advantage of us normal folk." John said. By first glance,  
  
nothing much would be thought of John, not very handsome, a little pudgy  
  
and a bad case of adult acne, but his mind was something else. If John set his  
  
mind to it, he could do it. This time he set his mind to a way to take   
  
even the most powerful mutant down to human level, without having to get close  
  
enough to touch them. "I developed a powder, alot like baby powder, that  
  
works alot like one of those collars. A little on the skin, and it gets obsourbed  
  
like asprin, and shuts down the nuro-pathways that control their powers. I'd like  
  
you to field test it. Any ideas?" He asked.  
  
"The first man grinned and told the story of the couple who bought  
  
the house from Linda and John's parents. They owned it anyway and without their daughter  
  
living there, they didn't see fit for the man who killed her to live there iether.  
  
He went off to get it back.  
  
Back at the house, she realised she still had a small mess to clean up  
  
from painting, but nothing much, Then a shower. Her first shower in her new house,  
  
it was a shame her husband wasn't there to share it, but he would be soon, in two days.  
  
It took her about twenty minutes to clean up the brushes, she hated stiff brushes, and to find  
  
where her husband had decided the linen closet to be, but she got her shower.  
  
She had noticed a powder covering the bathroom, and felt a little odd about it,  
  
but decided it was only annoyance at her husband for never being able to  
  
use powdered cleaners very well. She'd do it later, all she wanted right  
  
now was to get the white paint out of her hair.  
  
  
The powder seemed to stick to her, and maybe burn a bit, but she attributed that  
  
to the fact she had spilt paint thinner on herself earlier, along with a bit of  
  
linseed oil, but that hot water felt good. Relaxed her, and after all,  
  
being an X-Man, one needs all the relaxing to be gotten. Steam had filled  
  
the bathroom, and she only hoped the fire alarm wouldn't catch, after all, the last  
  
thing she needed was Beast making a fuss over nothing.   
  
Maybe the fire alarm would have been a good thing; maybe, but through  
  
the thick fog, a fat arm reached through and pulled her from her warm shower.  
  
The hand attached to that thick arm entangled in her hair as a bat was used  
  
to hold her across her throat. She tried, oh how she tried to use her powers, the  
  
thought occuring to her that she relies on them too heavily for someone trained in  
  
other forms of combat. When her powers refused to service, she fought, and she  
  
fought hard as she scratched at whomever held her. The man turned her around to face   
  
him as he used the bat to cut her airway and force her to the bed behind her.  
  
"No!! Noo!" she cried out to keep from blacking out. She punched at the man, hard  
  
enough to break his nose, save he moved, leaving her to swing at air. He eased the bat up,  
  
she could breathe, but the weight of the bat was replaced by the weight of his fat  
  
stomache as he pinned her arms with his knees and forced his dick into her mouth,  
  
to silence her.  
  
  
"You'll do what I tell you too, bitch, and you'll enjoy it!" He said as his weight snapped  
  
her right shoulder. He moved himself up and down her wet, steaming body as he thrusted  
  
and she bit into him with desperation to get away. She still couldn't  
  
understand why her powers weren't working, and why this man had chosen her  
  
to perform this deed to. "You fucking whore!" he cursed as he used the ether  
  
and his fist, to knock her cold.  
  
When she came through, he had recovered. He had recovered enough to be sweating  
  
and grunting on top of her, and upon seeing her awake, he pressed harder as she   
  
squimed to fight him off, ignoring her limp, broken shoulder, and now broken arm.  
  
"You asshole!" she screamed as she spat in his face and raked him with her  
  
open nails. "I like your tight, little cunt, mutant." he said as he grew angered  
  
and pulled out. "Maybe I should stretch you a little bit." he grinned as he  
  
tied her flailing hands with her biting and kicking all the way. He  
  
got off listing to her scream in agony as he repeatedly fisted her,  
  
tearing her, and watching her suffer as he entered her a last time,   
  
and watched her face, black and blue from his assault, contort in pain.  
  
  
He watched her wide eyed look of terror as he came, and he wiped his foul seed,  
  
mixed with the blood of her wounds across her face. "Here. Run if you can."  
  
He sneered as he untied her shattered wrists, starting a cat and mouse game.  
  
She tried to run, but the best she could do was limp. For half an hour, while he let  
  
the after effects of orgasm wear off, she tried to get out.  
  
With two broken wrists, she couldn't even open a door, She was  
  
trapped here, with him.  
  
When she had reached the room she had just finished painting, not an hour ago,  
  
she stopped. He was comming after her. Smashing things, following the trail of  
  
cum and blood she had left on the floor. "I'm not dieing like this!" She thought to herself.  
  
She hid in that room, hoping he would give up, or that somebody had heard something,  
  
or that Beast suddenly needed a test subject, anything! But he found her.  
  
And when he found her, he made her get her her knees and pleasure him again,  
  
and then again as he bent her over and fucked her ragged. When he was done the third time,  
  
He threw her against her angel white walls, and she fell, watching her crimson  
  
blood taint it, streaking and running down, like a river turned to blood.  
  
  
As she fell, things seemed to slow down as he brought that bat down on her, what seemed  
  
a thousand times. Her bones popped like a thousand of those fireworks she had thought of earlier.  
  
She lay there, pretending to be dead, hoping he would leave. He did,  
  
but not before opening the window to the cold outside. She fell on a vent,  
  
Leaving her alternatly warm, and freezing over the next two days. She doesnt know how she   
  
lived, espessialy when racoons came for easy warmth, and a meal,  
  
nor when pneumonia started setting in. She didn't loose too much blood, because it clotted around  
  
her, turning her carpet into one, big scab. She had lost enough, however to phase in and out of  
  
memory. That made the hunger and thirst, almost tolerable.  
  
Then her husband came back, and everybody in the X-Men was in an uproar.  
  
Half a dozen people swore vengeance unto death, and the other half dozen  
  
commited their time to tak tare of her, Leading her life to be a series of  
  
operations and therapy.  
  
All of that hurt, yes, but now she sees her husband, who   
  
has stood by her side through all of this, even after being constantly   
  
prepped for the eventuality of her death, looking around  
  
with new eyes, at other people.  
  
He was gone for a week, but to where, and why? What hurts most of all,  
  
she doesn't know if he loves her anymore.  
  
End 


	8. The Healing Curse

If you were Marvel, you'd have the rights to this. I'm not, so therefore, I don't.

Oh, the earlier chapters were written years ago, this is just a follow up.

The Healing Curse.

"Just that you've regained partial eye sight is nothing short of a miracle." The resident blue furred doctor remarks as he changes the bandages across the chest of the woman who lay in front of him.

"He knows I can see him?" She asks. Just months ago, she was beaten and left for dead. Her blood covered the walls of their new house as though it were muddy paint thrown carelessly by some vandal. Bits of her tissue clung tenaciously to her brand new white carpet, forever dying it a rainbow of colors, from pink to brick brown. That is until he had everything removed and hauled away. She was thin to start with, and she was so well toned, now, now her skin hangs off her as though it were an apron made of flesh. Her muscles have atrophied to the point that she looks skeletal, what's worse is that now she can see it.

"He knows." Beast breathes. He's known the two for quite some time, almost as though he's seen them grow up before his very eyes. The way the two danced around each other for years, their own separate failed relationships, the way they always found each other in the end, Beast watched it all, sometimes with a heavy heart. The two seemed to come into their own humanity through each other. "He loves you, I don't think you can avoid him forever."

"I'm not sure he does anymore." She looks away, her silky hair falling across her scarred face. She was beautiful once, and after the scars fade, after her body is repaired; she's assured that she will be again, there's much that can be done to help her. "He hasn't come to see me in weeks."

"How dare you even think such a thing! That man has killed for you!" Beast turns around to meet her eye to eye. "He doesn't come because he's ashamed! Because he blames himself for what happened to you, and you haven't done anything to convince him otherwise! You haven't done much more than lay there and feel sorry for yourself!" He snarled. "He needs you right now."

"What do you mean "Killed"? She hisses back. " And right now, not even being able to feed myself, having to rely on every blasted else for every blasted thing, I'm supposed to be sorry for being a little down in the dumps? I'm sorry I'm such a terrible burden on you but I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask to be crippled!"

"I'm sorry." He apologizes. "I didn't mean that so harshly." He sighs. Beast, Dr. McCoy knows this woman has been through much, perhaps much more than he himself could muster the strength to live through. She's had dozens of surgeries the last few months, and one more for tomorrow to replace the pins in an arm and leg.

"You still did not answer my question." She stares him down. Beast is notorious for subject change, should he find himself in an uncomfortable topic. "What happened, Hank?"

"I'm not confident that you are sufficiently recovered enough to hear this, one shock could relapse…" But he's cut off.

"You just got through telling me how sorry I'm feeling for myself, Hank. Don't be an enabler." If she could move her hand, she'd be holding his. She spent her life being the compassionate one, the one everybody else relied on. She can't be any of that now.

"He wanted to know what happened, what really happened, not the watered down, sugar coated version that was given to everyone else." Beast says as he looks away, pretending to be interested in an x-ray.

"And?" She insists. "I don't even remember it all." She doesn't, at least she doesn't think she does. So much of it is a blur of wood and pain, and that freshly painted white wall of hers. It hadn't even dried yet when her blood mingled with it.

"Oh, but you do." Beast fuddles with the black and white cellophane sheet. "Charles made sure to block them, so that they wouldn't consume you."

"What about my husband, Hank?" She stops him.

"He insisted Charles show him what you remembered." Beast pauses to think the easiest way to say this. "That man that you think doesn't love you anymore, is haunted by what he saw. He used every connection at his service to hunt your attacker down and brought him down." He breathes deeply. "It took quite a bit to cover it up and he's having a difficult time dealing with his emotions."

"I've never really seen him indulge in them very much." She says as she coughs, trying to clear the latest bronchiole infection away.

"Hmn... We may have to post pone your pin replacement if we can't break that fever." Beast absent-mindedly rubs his chin. "Ah, yes, as you were saying. No, only a few times. Your wedding, I believe to be one. Can you try to wiggle your big toe? I think I saw it move."

"Are you changing the subject, or truly interested?" She asks. Not because she cares, but as soon as she can wiggle a toe, she can start more rigorous therapy, and maybe go home, to her husband, to life.

"Both and neither. Now do it!" He demands.

She tries, but she can't. She can't even feel them. She can't feel the blue fuzz of Dr. McCoy's fingertips on them. She's so delicate right now that the gentlest of touches could break them. A break could cause yet another blood clot, another surgery, another month stuck in a hospital bed with tubes going every which way. The thought of it fails to find itself pleasant.

"Why can't I just go home?" She pleads as she tries to force herself to move.

"Charles feels it best you don't return to that particular house. I tend to concur." Beast replies as he attempts to manipulate her foot. "There's still blood flow and the skin is pink. I don't think this is permanent my dear."

"Why should you make that decision for me?" She challenges. "I've been an adult for quite some time."

"Yes, but here, you don't have any of your power. Even in your weakened state, should you be flooded with the memories Charles held back for you, you could snap and that would be cataclysmic." He cautions her. "There have been times before. And just as a matter of safety, being here lets me have you on an O.R. table in a minute. Your injuries have taken their toll on your heart, or have you forgotten?"

How could she forget the pain of her chest cracked open? How can she even ignore the ever-present itch of the disfigurement? How could she forget the worried look on her husband's face after she came through again? Her veins are starting to collapse because of the hundreds of needles that have been pushed in them, the drugs, blood transfusions, fluids, how could she forget?

"No, I haven't." She clears her throat, trying to breath through the thick mucus clogging her airways. She knows what's next, the mask for breathing treatments, the oxygen, and the terrible sleepless nights with somebody poking and prodding every couple hours. She knows that Beast can see the dark half moons under her eyes. He's not stupid. He also notices something else, the yellow tinge of her eyes and skin. Should she have been Kurt, this would have been different, but he knows that her liver has stopped functioning properly, yet another problem to deal with.

"I'm going to need more blood. I'm sorry." He says ruefully. "And a couple scans."

"Can you find him first?" She pleads. "You know how much I hate that machine."

"It is a little closed in, I agree, but being as I'm too big to fit, I cannot fully empathize." He jokes, trying to ease her anxiety. "I'll see if he can be located. None of us have seen him in two days. Charles sent him off on a mutant hunt."

Elsewhere in the Foothills of Salem

"John." The man speaks. "You didn't know what you were. It doesn't excuse what you allowed to happen to your sister, it doesn't excuse what you allowed to happen to my wife, but you can help. Show me what you gave your brother-in-law. Please show me what you made."

"Y' know, I always thought my sister was a freak. My parents loved her best; perhaps they were a little afraid of her. One time, I saw her completely change the color of a room just by thinking about it." John drawled sloshed.

"Yes, she could change the chemical makeup of anything she touched." The man informs him. "And you can create chemicals from almost nothing, and morph them into something completely new. Siblings often have complementary abilities."

"Do you have a sister or brother? Would you have done what I did?" John asks as he haunches over his brew. "I helped kill my sister out of jealousy and hate! My niece and nephew didn't deserve to lose their mother because I had to be better!"

"I'd rather not get into that." The man smirks. Just the thought of his family would be a study in itself. "Would you come with me? I need you to help save my wife."

"You know, he was always talking about you people over there. What freaks you are." John sneers, "I remember him talking about your wife. He was hot for her. Hate or lust, I don't care, but he talked about her."

"Quit while I'm sympathetic." The man warns.

"You killed him, didn't you?" John laughs. "I haven't heard scratch from him! Good for you." He drinks again. "I know at least a dozen other people who would have done the same thing. How did you do it?"

"I pushed his nose up into his brain." The man puts simply.

"Will you kill me?" John sobers up, dead serious. "I know you're a mutant, I know you've probably a dozen ways to kill a man. Why not use your powers?"

"My powers make too much a mess." The man swigs his beer. "And if you want me to, I will. Just save my wife."

"Deal." John agrees as he creates another draft. "Kill me the way I deserve to die."


End file.
